Frequent Patient Discount
by wblt
Summary: Story complete. Chapter three is up! What could possibly go wrong on a relaxing early morning fishing trip? When Steve Sloan is involved just about anything! Thank you for the wonderful reviews, we appreciate them!
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: The show and the characters belong to CBS and Viacom. They are merely being borrowed for this piece of fan fiction.**

**Author's Note**: **This story was inspired by a chapter title in Mirror Image. We all know Steve Sloan is a walking medical miracle, bouncing back from one dire injury after another, but sometimes, an accumulation of little things can really get him down. We owe a great deal of thanks to two wonderful beta readers. Ladies you are the best!**

**Frequent Patient Discount – Chapter One**

Jesse stood observing the bedraggled figure slumped in the chair of the ER waiting room. His hair which normally was plastered in place with hairspray stood up in tufts all over his head and parts of it appeared to contain dried blood and remnants of what looked like newspaper. His hand appeared to be wrapped in a paper towel and his boot was off and sitting beside the foot it should have been on. He was only half sitting in the chair, his bottom placed at an odd angle as if it were painful to sit. In his lap, he was holding a medium sized, greenish, domed object that looked for all the world like a turtle. To complete the picture periodic sniffles could be heard coming from the down turned face. If he had been shorter, he could have passed for a little boy worried about a traumatized pet. Using every ounce of self-control and professionalism he possessed Jesse suppressed the smile that threatened to escape and addressed his next patient.

"Steve?"

Steve jerked and turned bleary eyes up to look at the young doctor. "What?"

Jesse's eyes twinkled as he attempted to control the chuckle that tickled the back of his throat. Steve's nose was so red it practically glowed and there were flecks of what looked like mud covering his face like freckles.

"What happened?"

"It's a really long story that I don't really want to share," Steve informed him testily.

"Ok, can you at least tell me what you're doing with a turtle in the ER?" Jesse asked, hoping he had managed to keep the threatening smile off his face.

"I, uh . . . I found him while I was out fishing. Look, Jess, can't you just fix me up?" Steve pleaded wearily.

"Sure, but it helps to know what happened when I am treating someone, you know it will be confidential." Jesse bit his lip to keep from laughing at his beleaguered friend.

The look Steve gave him indicated his opinion of the truthfulness of that statement. "Yeah, right, I'm sure you would never dream of telling Dad and Amanda."

"We can argue over that later, can you walk, or do I need to get a wheelchair?" Jesse asked.

"I can walk!" Steve barked and as he stood up Jesse lost all semblance of control. The inseam of his left pants leg was a tattered shred and a brief glimpse of white cotton had been visible when Steve had pushed himself upright. The turtle, surprised by the change in position, began flapping his fins and swaying his head back and forth as if looking for some means of escape. Jesse's chuckle turned to a giggle which then quickly evolved into body engulfing laughter, tears streamed down his face and he thought his knees would buckle. Using the palm of his hand he tried to clear his wet eyes and discreetly observe the countenance of his friend. The scowl that resided there was probably meant to instill fear; instead its appearance was so incongruous with the rest of his look that it only inspired Jesse into another fit of laughter.

Balancing on his one good foot, Steve rested the turtle on one hip and his closed fist on the other and waited for Jesse to regain his composure. "I would really like to see in what part of the Hippocratic Oath it says that doctors should laugh at their patients!"

As Jesse struggled to rein in his laughter, a mischievous smile played on his lips as he responded. "Well, haven't you ever heard the old saying 'laughter is the best medicine'?

"Ha, ha, I think that means if the patient laughs, not the doctor, now are you going to treat me, or do I need to go to another hospital where they actually practice medicine."

"Oh, no, there is no way you are getting out of here, for one thing Mark would kill me, and for the other I have to know what happened." Leaning forward to make eye contact with the turtle, Jesse added, "You know, your friend here is kind of cute. What's his name?"

The turtle's jaws snapped together just inches from the young doctor's nose, and Jesse jumped back. Straightening up, he was sure he caught Steve changing a smile into a scowl, and he said, "You might have warned me!"

"I suppose I might have, but I didn't," Steve said with a touch of evil in his voice. "You should know better than to get too close to unfamiliar wild animals anyway."

"So, what is he?"

"I think he's an alligator snapper, and if he is, he's a young one. They get to be pretty big."

"So, how'd you come by him?" Jesse asked.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Steve gave an angry grin, and shook the finger of his free hand in Jesse's face, "That's all part of the story I didn't want to tell you to begin with. So, for the last time, are you going treat me or not?"

"Oh, all right, exam two," Jesse groused, "but can you stop snapping at me?"

The pun was accidental, but Steve still grunted something that Jesse was pretty sure he didn't want to ask him to repeat and then hobbled in the direction of the treatment room.

As Jesse followed him into the room he stopped a passing nurse in the hallway and asked her to contact Doctor Sloan and inform him that his son was in for treatment of some minor injuries. He then moved across to the exam table which now held a thoroughly grumpy police lieutenant who once again appeared reluctant to sit completely down and a turtle that could only be sulking as he was again drawn up into his shell looking out at his strange surroundings with beady reptilian eyes.

"Ahhh, errr, Steve, is there some reason why won't you sit down?" Jesse inquired with one arched eyebrow. He could swear Steve's cheeks flushed a red that matched his glowing nose.

"I can't," was the muttered response.

"You can't, why?" Jesse asked perplexed.

"It hurts," was the disgruntled reply.

"You know, Steve you could make this go a lot faster if you would just tell me what is wrong."

"Do you promise not to laugh?" Steve questioned.

"No, but you are going to tell me anyway," Jesse responded with a smile.

"Alright, fine, I have some shotgun pellets there."

"There? Where's there? Your leg……oh, oh, oh, you mean THERE." Jesse couldn't stop the snort that escaped through his nose as once again his slender frame was overwhelmed with laughter. "So you're telling me, that I need to help you get the lead out?"

"Cute," Steve smirked. "Actually, hunters in the United States are now required to use steel shot because some environmentalists are worried that the ducks are coming down with lead poisoning. It didn't bleed much and it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as my head."

"So, let's take a look at you head first, we'll get to the other in the end," was Jesse's giggle laden response.

"Very funny, do I need to get on my knees so that you can reach?" Steve inquired.

"Well at least your sarcasm is intact, and you know it's probably not a good idea to irritate someone who is getting ready to probe your wounds."

"It probably equally as bad an idea to irritate someone who is bigger than you," Steve responded.

"This is true, but I also have access to drugs that I can use to incapacitate you, that cancels out the size thing, now please let me look at your head."

"Uhh, Jess?"

"Steve?"

"Could I get rid of the turtle first?"

"Oh! Uh, sure! What do you want to do with him?" Jesse asked with a sparkle in his eye. "I could send him to the kitchen and have the cook make soup for you. It couldn't be any worse than the meatloaf you love so much."

This time, Steve actually growled, and Jesse had to accept the fact that, not only was his friend not amused, but he had also had a very rough day. Feeling just a touch of sympathy, whether for the turtle or for Steve, he wasn't sure, he said, "Ok, ok, you found him at the lake, so he likes water, right? We'll just put him in the sink and turn the water on."

Trying not to think about how many health code violations he was committing, Jesse did just that and made a mental note to be certain he thoroughly disinfected the sink after his two patients had left. The sink wasn't large enough for the turtle to swim in, but as the cool water began to hit his shell, he began to look somewhat more comfortable. Jesse was certain that if turtles could sigh in relief, he would have.

Knowing that he couldn't wash his hands in the sink with the turtle in there, Jesse opened an alcohol wipe and did his best to sanitize them with it. Then he pulled on a pair of gloves and turned to his friend.

"Now, let me have a look at your head."

Steve lowered his head and grimaced as Jesse's fingers moved around the wound.

"How on earth did you get this? It starts out shallow then gets progressively deeper and there is a pretty good sized chunk of skin missing on one end."

"It was a mfishmmg mhommk," Steve mumbled.

"I'm sorry, did you say a fishing hook?" Jesse questioned with merriment sparkling in his eyes. "How on earth did you hook yourself in the head?"

Steve raised his head and glared. "I didn't hook my own head, she did it!"

"She did it? Who is she? Are you not even safe from weird women on a fishing trip? What is her name?"

"I don't know her name, I was on the lake minding my own business when I heard a woman scream, when I got back in the boat I went to find out….," Steve paused when he was interrupted.

"When you got back in the boat?" Jesse prompted. "You fell out of the boat?" The white shoulders of Jesse's coat rose and fell with laughter once again.

"Yes, Doctor, that's how I hurt my ankle, I got it caught under the seat when I fell."

Jesse muffled his laughter behind the hand he held over his mouth. "Let me look at your head again, I don't think I'll have to shave it….,"

The head in question was quickly jerked up and away. "You are not coming anywhere near my head with a razor," Steve barked.

"As I was saying I don't think I'll need to shave your head and I don't think stitches will be necessary, you may have to lay off the hairspray till it heals though."

"I don't use hairspray," Steve argued.

"Right, and you're a natural neon blonde as well," Jesse responded.

The epithet that flew from Steve's lips caused a red tinge to cover Jesse's cheeks.

"Steve!" rang a voice from the doorway. "You know your mother hated that kind of language."

Steve had the decency to look ashamed and when he responded his face wore a pout Mark could swear looked the same as it had when he was six. "Dad, you have no idea what I have been putting up with."

"No, I guess I don't, but that's still no excuse." Mark's frown changed from one of disapproval to confused curiosity. "Jesse, why is the water running, and what is that in the sink?"

Jesse didn't know if he was going to be able to restrain himself. Dealing with the injuries and their explanations was difficult enough, but to now have Mark chastising Steve like he was a child was pushing the boundaries of his control. He tittered nervously before he spoke. "It's a turtle," he said as if the animal were standard ER equipment. "I was trying to make him comfortable."

"I see . . . and how exactly did you end up with him?"

Grinning, knowing he wasn't helping the cause, Jesse answered, "It's Steve's. He found it at the lake. I don't know why he brought it here. It doesn't look hurt."

Mark looked at his son. "Steve?" The one word carried with it the whole question, 'What have you got to say for yourself?'

"Dad, please, I'm tired, can't you cut me some slack this once?" Steve truly did look tired, and Mark took pity on him.

"Ok, Son, it can wait, for a little while. Jesse, what have you got?"

"I was just getting ready to move to his next injury, care to help out?"

"His next injury, just how many are there, and how did you get them?" Mark asked his son.

"Dad, I really, really don't want to get into this, can't you just patch me up and let me go home? I have a late shift tonight and I would really like to clean up."

"He does need to go home first, Mark, otherwise you might be having to bail him out for indecent exposure, not to mention the cold he might catch from the draft," Jesse explained.

For the first time, Mark took in his son's appearance. The unnaturally spikey hair stained with blood and matted with something else, the mud splatters on the face, the wrapped hand, the swollen ankle, the odd angle at which his posterior rested on the exam table and lastly the flesh visible where a pant leg should have been. He frowned and wrinkled his nose. "Steve, what on earth have you been doing, I thought you were going fishing?"

"I was, I did…., but stuff happened."

"Stuff happened? Stuff happened?" Mark asked incredulously. "That's what you said when your mother and I returned home from a long holiday weekend to find the door broken, the couch missing a leg, a sandcastle in the family room, and a tie-dyed VW bus stranded on the beach in back of the house. It was woefully inadequate then and it's not much better now!"****

Jesse was done for. Mark's recitation of the teenage Steve's adventures was more than he could take. His laughter erupted and he snorted through his nose loudly. Even the cold glare he received from his seriously peeved best friend couldn't stop his laughter. Once again he found himself wiping tears from eyes that were by now red and puffy. "Ok, you can't just leave it there, I gotta know what happened."

Steve dropped his head in an effort to bring his ever-rising temper under control, that seemingly simple act caused him more grief.

"Is that the sports section in your hair?" His father inquired as he peered in to look more closely. "It is, Steve, I never even got a chance to read it this morning!"

Broad shoulders rose and dropped with a mountainous sigh that threatened to drain all of the oxygen out of the room, then in a voice that was distorted by the fact that it was being pushed through gritted teeth, Steve said once more. "I . . . just … want … to … get … patched … up … so … that … I … can … go … to … work … tonight!"

Still chuckling Jesse took pity on him. "Ok, ok, now bottoms up so I can take a look."

Blue eyes pinned him to the wall, but the look did little to quell the mirth that was dancing across Jesse's face.

"This is not funny anymore, Jesse!" Steve barked.

"No, you're right." Jesse agreed. "It ceased being funny some time ago, right about the time it crossed in to hysterical!"

Mark had been observing the banter. He observed the one good hand that clenched the table with white knuckles. He knew that his son had nearly reached the breaking point. In his best soothing doctor tone, he addressed his son.

"Steve, while Jesse finishes checking everything out I want you to tell me what happened."

Once again an oxygen stealing sigh escaped and then Steve began his explanation of the day's events.


	2. Chapter Two

**Frequent Patient Discount – Chapter Two**

"I should have known it was going to be a bad day right from the start, I burnt my tongue on coffee before I ever even left the house, then when I got outside I had a flat tire. I got to the boat dock and the boat we normally rent was gone, instead they give me this boat that looked like it should have been the prize out of a bag of Cracker Jack's. I finally got out on the lake and nothing was biting except the morning mosquitoes. I had about decided to just say forget it when I heard her scream."

"Who is her?" Jesse interrupted.

"I don't know who her is, we didn't exchange introductions," Steve responded flatly before continuing. "Now, you are the one who wanted to know what happened. Will you please shut up and let me tell you before I change my mind?"

_Steve raised his arms above his head, interlocked his fingers, and stretched. He had been on the lake for a little over an hour and had not seen another soul, including any fish. He finished his stretch and reached towards the thermos to pour some coffee when a shrill scream pierced the quiet morning. Forgetting where he was he jumped up and caused the small boat to start rocking. He attempted to get his balance unsuccessfully, and as he fell over the side of the boat, his ankle caught up under the seat and twisted painfully. There was little time to consider the discomfort as his face impacted with the water, driving water up his nose and into the sinus cavity. He twisted to get his ankle free and heard another scream. With a great deal of effort he pulled himself back up into the boat, water poured off of him as he turned and glared at the motor which had proved itself to be a royal pain before he had even left the dock that morning. His first tug produced no results and a spurt of anger caused him to yank vigorously the second time around, the cord caught abruptly and the rubber handle bent his fingers backwards to an awkward and painful position. He released it quickly and stuck his throbbing fingers under his armpit. The stream of words that flew through clinched teeth would have made even the most hardened criminal blush. Regaining a small amount of composure he reached once again towards the offending cord and on the third try the small motor which sounded more like a mixer roared to life. He paused and tried to determine where the last sound had come from, another burst of noise made the task easier and he turned the boat in the direction it seemed to originate._

"Ok, so that's the ankle," Mark stated. His interruption earned him a glare that resembled the same one Steve used to exhibit when as a teenager he had been grounded. "That look had no affect when you were sixteen and it still doesn't, in fact, the turtle is more intimidating. Now continue on."

Steve spoke louder to be heard over Jesse's giggling. "After I got back in the boat, I heard her…don't say it!" He growled at Jesse, who was hiding an impish grin behind his hand.

"Anyway, I heard her scream and I headed in the direction that it came from."

_He rounded a small bend in the lake to find two women in a boat, their faces were panic stricken, he reached a hand towards his hip to check his gun, _Damn,****_he thought as he remembered he had left it at home. He cut the motor off and glided up beside the other boat._

_"Ladies, what seems to be the problem?" Steve questioned._

_"There," squeaked the smaller of the two women as she pointed to the far corner of the boat._

_Steve looked back over his shoulder to see a medium sized turtle huddled under the seat._

_"It tried to bite us," the other woman informed him._

"It seems he had made the huge mistake of latching on to one of their lines."

Jesse grinned over at the turtle. "That'll teach you, buddy, never string along two women at once!"

"Well, I thought if I could get it to the rangers, they would send it back East where it belongs," Steve said, "but she . . . "

Steve paused and eyed Jesse, daring him to ask. When he didn't Steve was interrupted by a snort of laughter, but not by Jesse, Mark was trying desperately to gain control of himself. "I'm sorry, I have a tickle in my throat, go on."

With a sigh, Steve continued his story.

_If a turtle could appear terrified this one had mastered the look, its beady eyes were darting and its tongue was visible and Steve could swear its mouth was quivering._

_"I really don't think he is dangerous." As Steve had spoken the turtle had decided to make a break for it, so at the speed of ketchup he had moved across the floor of the boat._

_Seeing this breakneck pace, the larger of the two women shrieked and started beating the boat with her fishing rod, completely oblivious of the thin line with the hook on the end. Steve dodged as it flew over his head, but he had not been quick enough and the hook lodged in his scalp, but it didn't stay long because as she renewed her battle with the turtle she ripped it free and continued her frenzied reptile attack. _

"Ouch," Mark responded and his face crinkled in sympathy. "That had to hurt."

"Yes, it did and does," Steve responded tartly. "While she was flailing around I reached down and tried to grab the turtle, that was a mistake, he got me with his beak, by the way, why do turtles have beaks? I thought only birds had beaks?"

"I don't know, Son, I'll buy you a book on turtles and you can do some research."

Once again Mark found himself the recipient of a hard look.

_"YEOUCHHH," Steve screamed. In a quest for self-preservation he reached into the middle of the fray and grabbed the turtle, not taking care to find out which end he was grabbing, a decision he quickly regretted as a sharp beak crunched into his hand._

_"Ouch, let go, or I'll leave you with these women!" The turtle seemed to understand the threat and immediately released its grip and Steve transferred the creature to his boat._

_"What are you doing with it? Are you going to hurt it?" The small woman asked._

_Steve pushed the wet hair, out of his eyes and tried to control his temper and thought. __Lady, if he could survive the two of you, nothing I could do to him should be a problem_._ "No, I'm not going to hurt him, there is a wildlife sanctuary on my way home, I'm going to drop him off there."_

_The larger woman observed him through thick, large framed glasses. "You're sure you aren't going to hurt him? By the way, your head is bleeding pretty heavily; you want me to take a look at it."_

_Steve suddenly felt the same fear the turtle must have been experiencing as both women leaned towards him. He searched his vest for something to staunch the flow of blood as he eyed the woman suspiciously. "No, thanks, my father is a doctor; he will take care of it."_

_As the two women contemplated his answer he evaluated his chances to take them if a fight broke out. He wasn't fond of the odds. He would never understand why some people would ever go fishing. With the immediate crisis resolved, he suddenly felt numerous areas of his body announcing their discomfort. His boot had gotten uncomfortably tight around his ankle, his make-shift bandage of today's sports section which he had retrieved from his boat had failed to staunch the steady flow of blood down his head and a sting had taken up residence in his hand. When he realized that they weren't going to respond he spoke._

_"If you ladies are alright, I think I am going to call it a day."_

"Ok, so we have covered the foot, the head and the hand, that leaves us with the Sloan throne and your shredded pants." Jesse prompted his voice muffled by the hand that covered the smile he couldn't repress.

"So, after liberating the turtle from Thelma and Louise…"

"I thought you didn't know their names?" Mark interrupted, his moustache twitching in a valiant effort to contain a grin.

The noise Steve made was unidentifiable, but Jesse chose to believe it was a laugh, despite the narrowed eyes that viewed him with little humor. "I got back to the docks with the turtle and as I got close to the bait shop I realized something wasn't right."

"What do you mean something wasn't right?" Mark asked.

"Oh, I don't know, Dad, superior detective skills, amazing deductive ability or maybe, just maybe the fact that I could see Nelson, the clerk, through the window with his hands up in the air."

"Oh, you are good," Jesse interjected and barely ducked out of the way as a wad of gauze was thrown towards his head.

"So, what happened?" Mark prompted.

"I was able to get close enough to peek in the window and saw a man with a gun, I decided it would be better to wait outside the door and surprise him, seeing as how I was only armed with a sharp beaked turtle."

"You still had the turtle?" Jesse inquired.

"Yes, I still had the turtle," Steve responded testily.

"Were you actually _holding_ the turtle?" Jesse asked.

"Yes," Steve hissed at him.

"Why?"

Steve opened his mouth to reply, and when he found he had no good answer at the ready, he said simply, "I . . . don't know."

Both Mark and Jesse dissolved in laughter at this point, and Steve just groaned. It was several moments before the conversation continued.

"And then what?" Mark asked.

_Steve knew his choices were limited. There were times that he knew a physical presence could be enough of a deterrent to disarm someone, but he knew he was not at his imposing best. His head and face were bloodied, he was limping, his hand was wrapped in a paper towel and he was carrying a turtle. Not an image that would strike fear into most criminals. As the man backed out of the door Steve spoke and the startled man jumped back and things went rapidly down hill from there. Steve stepped back and in his haste he forgot the barrel of minnows behind him, he lost his balance as the container gave with his weight and as he flew back and towards the left he legs flew at an odd angle and he heard a tearing noise just before he heard the gun discharge and he felt a sudden pain in his backside. He fell to the ground taking care not to injure his new best friend, the turtle. Steve looked up to find his view blocked by the shotgun. His clothes were wet, his face splattered with mud and there was a curious wiggling sensation inside his shirt._

"How did you disarm him?" Mark questioned.

"I didn't."

"You didn't?" Mark asked with an arched eyebrow.

"No, I didn't," Steve answered.

"Well who did then?" Jesse added.

"No one, exactly," Steve replied reluctantly.

"Exactly no one? I don't understand." Mark was genuinely confused.

"Well, when I left the house this morning, I was determined for once to be completely off duty. I didn't have my badge, gun, or cuffs, and the gunman was quite a bit bigger than me, and as I said, all I had was the turtle."

"I see," Mark said, "and you decided it was best to avoid an altercation?"

"Well, yeah. I was too close to the building, he could have gone back in and taken Nelson hostage."

"So, what did you do?" Jesse asked, impatient to know what had happened.

"I . . . uh . . . I let him take me."

Steve carefully weighed his options. The robber had a double barrel shotgun that had only discharged one barrel, and while he, Nelson, and the criminal were the only ones in the immediate vicinity, there were a lot of civilians on the lake and at the various campsites around it. It wouldn't do to let the guy roam the park, so he had to stop him somehow, and the only way he'd have a chance to stop him would be to stick with him. Saying a quick prayer, Steve held onto the turtle and wallowed around in the dirt a little longer than necessary. As he expected, when the gunman got to his feet, he decided to take a hostage, and since Steve had made himself available, he got to do the honors.

_He swallowed hard as the barrel of the shotgun was shoved in his face, and the man at the other end of it leered, "Get up, and grab your little pet. In fact, carry him over your head, that way, if you try anything, he'll hit you in the head before you can do it."_

_The gunman glared down toward the dock and asked, "That your boat?"_

_"It's a rental, but, yes," Steve replied._

_"Let's go."_

_Steve was already formulating a plan as he headed back to the dock. The boat was unstable, but his captor didn't know that._

"So, we went down to the boat, and . . ."

"And you _still_ had the turtle?" Jesse asked, giving the little green guy an affectionate look.

"_Yes,_ I still had the turtle," Steve replied impatiently, "Now, do you want to know what happened, or not?"

When Jesse would have said something more, Mark shot him a withering look, and said, "I can't believe you offered yourself as a hostage again."

Steve bristled at first, and opened his mouth to bark a rude retort, but when he saw the latent worry on his father's face, he said gently, "Hey, Dad, it's over, and I'm all right . . . mostly. I had about two seconds to make a decision, and that's really the only thing I could do."

Mark nodded, and tried a smile though now he didn't much feel like it. "I know, that, Son, but I still don't like to think about it. Anyway, go on, what happened next?"

_Climbing into the boat with the turtle still positioned above his head had been an adventure. Steve had made his way towards the back and the motor._

_"Can I put the turtle down?" Steve asked his captor._

_"Sure, but no quick moves or the turtle gets it," the man snickered as he pointed the gun at the reptile._

_Steve scowled as he carefully placed his hard-shelled friend on the seat. They shared a brief look and Steve could swear the little guy had winked at him. Steve began what he knew from his attempts earlier in the morning would be an arduous task of starting the boat's motor. He pulled the rope the first time and heard the familiar spluttering noise. As he had pulled his arm back to make another attempt, he heard an almost sucking noise behind him that was immediately followed by a scream and the boat suddenly began to rock, the only thing that kept it from tipping over was the fact that it was still secured to the dock. Steve turned around quickly and saw the shotgun fly through the air and land on the dock, his captor now on his knees holding his hands up to his face and one thoroughly satisfied turtle sitting on the seat of the boat with what Steve would swear was a grin on his wrinkled little face. Steve's voice took on that tone that adults often take when talking with small children and pets and he reached out and stroked the hard shell._

_"Did you get the big bad man? What a good boy!" The moment might have continued if not for the sound of a throat clearing and Steve looked up into the face of a park ranger._

_"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" the young man, whose name badge read Dewey, asked._

_Steve, a little chagrinned at having a fellow law enforcement officer catch him baby-talking a reptile, didn't quite know what to say at first. Before he could get his tongue untied though, his captor stood up, faced the ranger, and said, "Thank God you're here! This lunatic is trying to kidnap me!"_

_"I **what**?"__ Steve shouted, but before he could go on, his eyes fell to the thirty-eight his kidnapper had stuffed into the back waistband of his pants, and he knew the situation was still dangerous._

_"I had a bad day fishing," the crook said, "so I decided to go home early. I was just going into the shop to check the boat back in when this nut case came rushing out and shoved me into the barrel of minnows. By the time I got up off the ground, he was sticking his shotgun in my face and telling me to carry his turtle."_

_The whole time the robber had been talking, Steve had been casting meaningful glances from Dewey, to the back of his captor's pants, but when the other man finished speaking, Dewey just looked past the crook and asked Steve, "Well, sir, what do you have to say for yourself?"_

_Steve knew what he must have looked like covered in mud with the remains of the sports pages sticking to his bloodied scalp as he babbled at the turtle, and since Dewey hadn't taken his hint, from the young man's perspective he'd also just spent the past several moments with his eyes rolling in their sockets as if they were about to tumble out of his head. He could see by Ranger Dewey's expression that the man was already trying to determine whether he should be contacting the county sheriff or the nice young men in their clean white coats to come and take him away. He knew that in his current state, there was no way he could convincingly explain that the story was true but the roles had been reversed._

_Sighing, Steve said, "Nelson, the clerk at the bait shop, knows me. He'll tell you what happened."_

_Ranger Dewey gave them both an indulgent smile and said, "Well, then, why don't we just go have a friendly chat with Nelson? With any luck, we can all be home in time for supper."_

_With the shotgun at his feet on the dock, Dewey naively believed he was dealing with an innocent tourist and a bedraggled, but now harmless, maniac. Bending forward to pick up the weapon, he stupidly took his eye off his two suspects, and the not-so-innocent not-so-tourist took that opportunity to pull his thirty-eight out of his waistband._

_"Get down!" Steve yelled as he rocked the flimsy boat hard to port, but the robber managed to squeeze off a shot before he hit the water anyway. Even as Ranger Dewey went down screaming when his leg gave out beneath him, Steve noticed with some satisfaction that the turtle had wisely pulled his little head and flippers as far into the shell as they would go._

_Diving from the little boat, Steve drove his shoulder into the criminal's midsection and let his momentum carry them both underwater. A couple of hard blows to his back made him come up gasping for air. He looked around, and spotted the other man, gun still in hand, trying to get back into the boat. He was hanging half over the side and seemed to be having trouble getting his legs up when he suddenly screamed in agony and pulled the gun up dangerously close to his face._

_Steve, knowing what was about to happen next, lunged for the hand that held the gun. He didn't stop the man from firing, but the waves he created did make the shot miss its mark. The turtle, frightened by the noise, pulled back into his shell again, taking a chunk of flesh with him. The criminal, wanting nothing more than to escape the sadistic little animal, turned on Steve. One powerful shove knocked the big cop off balance and into the dock when he slipped in the mushy mud and fell back among the pilings on which the little dock had been built._

_A bit confused by the sudden fall and all the bubbles, Steve thrashed about in the muddy water for several moments, trying to figure out which way was up. Just as he surfaced, alone in the dark beneath the dock, he heard the roar of the shotgun discharging again, the click of it breaking open, and the thud of two empty shells dropping onto the dock above his head. He could only assume that someone was reloading._

_His heart pounding in his chest, Steve silently caught his breath, and then, dreading what he might find, as quietly as he could, he slipped under the water and swam out from under the dock._

"Nelson was up on the dock, and the guy was long gone. Someone from the LA County Sheriff showed up, and some paramedics to take care of Ranger Dewey, I gave my statement and came here. The end." Steve held his breath, not even daring to ask Jesse to hurry up so he could get home in time to clean up before work, hoping against all hope that he had satisfied his friend and his father's curiosity.

"Now wait a minute," Jesse said, and Steve felt his heart sink to his toes. "I'm still not sure how you disarmed the guy."

The bloody matted head dropped down in shame and the muttered response was barely audible. "The turtle did it."

Jesse didn't try and suppress the laughter anymore. He guffawed loudly and through watering eyes glanced over at Steve's current partner who at that moment was happily floating in the sink. His knees weak from laughter, he hooked the stool under the exam table with his foot and quickly sat down.

_"Nelson," Steve said quietly, and he raised his hands high as the shaken clerk turned on him with the shotgun._

_Quickly Nelson shifted the barrels to point in a safe direction. "Jeeze, Steve, don't spook me like that. That creep busted my glasses and you're likely to get your head blown off before I can see who you are."_

_"Where is he, Nelson?"_

_"He ran off when I fired the shotgun. I snuck down here while you two were fighting and grabbed it, and when he knocked you down, I figured I had to shoot. He was far enough away that I think I missed him. He didn't yell anyway." Nelson grinned. "He sure did run, though." A frown replaced the grin. "I'm sorry I couldn't catch him for you, but I did call 911. The sheriff and an ambulance are on their way."_

_Steve nodded. "You did the right thing, Nelson."_

_Nelson squinted in the direction of the boat and grinned again. "Who's your friend little friend and what's he got there?"_

_Steve stared for a minute, and then his face crinkled up in a smile. Paddling happily in a half-sunken boat, the turtle was swimming between the seats, a thirty-eight revolver clamped tightly in his beak._

"Now, can you please finish up and let me go home?" Steve pleaded.

"Does Cheryl know she has been replaced?" Jesse asked between bursts of laughter.

He was saved from what promised to be an ugly response by a short knock on the door and the entrance of one of the interns.

"Doctor Travis?"

Jesse somehow mumbled out a response. "Yes, Michael, what is it?"

"I would like your opinion on a case."

Jesse further composed himself. "Sure, what's going on."

"Well, it's really bizarre, it seems that this guy had a turtle latch on to his nose…," he got no further because his concern quickly switched from his patient to the doctor who had just collapsed off the stool and onto the floor and now lay curled in a fetal position with strange sounds emanating from his mouth.


	3. Chapter Three

**Frequent Patient Discount - Chapter Three**

It was some time later that a cleaned and bandaged Steve limped into the precinct with a plastic tub under one arm, a pillow and book about turtles under the other. He had an appointment at the twenty-four hour vet clinic for later in the evening. Steve felt he owed it to the little guy to get him checked out, after all he had been through a lot. If he had been less focused on balancing the container of water he might have noticed the smirks and smiles that greeted his arrival into the squad room. As he approached his desk he lifted his head and stopped dead in his tracks. He had never seen so many turtles in his life. They hung from the ceiling, they were sitting on top of his computer monitor, they were everywhere and as he forced frozen feet to move forward he found that he wouldn't be needing his pillow, his seat was covered with a large turtle shaped pillow and sitting on the floor just in front of his chair were the largest, fluffiest turtle house shoes he had ever seen. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, he should have known Jesse would have called, when he opened them he looked down at his desk and saw what looked like a newspaper article that detailed the adventures of two police detectives, Clumsy and Latch Clumsy being the uncommonly inept human partner and Latch being his snapping turtle partner who used his latching ability to subdue criminals. Though Steve knew the article was fake he suddenly broke into a cold sweat at the prospect of the story actually ending up in print somewhere. He carefully lowered himself into his chair and placed the tub directly on the offending piece of paper. Steve suddenly became aware of the sounds around him, giggles hidden behind hands or outright laughter. Cheryl stood in front of him with merriment dancing in her eyes, her hands suspiciously behind her back. Steve looked at her through narrowed eyes.

"Detective Banks."

Reciprocating his use of rank, Cheryl responded, "Lieutenant Sloan."

Steve tried to peek around her back. "What have you got in your hands?"

Cheryl giggled and Steve grew more uncomfortable.

"You mean this?" Cheryl asked as she brought her hands around open and palms up to show him the contents.

Steve's mouth fell open in shock. He couldn't believe it, Jesse must have called them while he was still at the hospital, there was no other way they could have gotten all this done. Cheryl's hand contained the smallest badge, handcuffs and gun Steve had ever seen.

"If I had known you wanted another partner, Sloan, I would have asked for a transfer," Cheryl spluttered out as giggles finally consumed her and she dropped into the chair by his desk.

Steve groaned dropped his head into his hands and prayed for the day to be over.

**………………..**

Cheryl had insisted on accompanying Steve to the vet's office and so here they now sat Steve trying to fill out paperwork on his new pet.

"I don't know the answers to this stuff," he grumbled.

"Well, maybe you ought to just concentrate on a name, you can't just keep calling him the turtle, all pets need a name."

"I know that," he responded testily. "I'm just not sure what to name him."

"Are you really going to keep him? And, have you considered the fact that he might not be a he?"

Steve looked suddenly startled, he hadn't even considered that. And how exactly did you tell the sex of a turtle, anyway? A frown creased his brow as he responded. "How do you tell the sex of a turtle?"

Cheryl frowned back. "Do I look like I know? Look it up in your handy, dandy little turtle book. What is that by the way 'Turtles for Dummies'."

She received an impressive scowl for her comment. "Well I certainly can't name him---errr…it until I know for sure, I mean that could be traumatic, being a girl and having a guy's name."

"Steve it's a turtle, I think its day probably goes something like this, gonna swim for a while, then sleep, then eat and hey then maybe I'll swim, sleep and eat. I don't think it cares what its name is."

"I think that's a little harsh, besides that sounds more like a day at the beach with Jesse."

Cheryl laughed. "At least your sense of humor is intact."

As Steve started to respond, they were interrupted by voice at the door of the waiting room.

"Mr. Sloan, we can finish the paperwork in the exam room, the doctor is ready to see you and your turtle now."

Cheryl couldn't help herself she snorted loudly, no way no how would she have thought she would ever hear a sentence like that. She mumbled it to herself as Steve pushed himself upright with a grunt.

"Shut up and watch my pillow," Steve grumbled as he limped towards the door.

Cheryl grabbed the turtle shaped pillow and held it up close to her mouth to muffle her laughter.

**………………..**

Steve eased himself down into the chair in the examining room and the door opened almost immediately revealing the doctor. He moved to stand by the table and looked down at his next patient before looking up at its owner.

"And how did you come across this little guy, Mr. Sloan?" the vet asked.

Steve sighed. "It's a really long story that I'd rather not go into."

**The End**

**We had a great deal of fun writing this story and we hope you enjoyed it. You guys make writing so much fun!**


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